loneliness

I hope somebody cares because I sure don't. I sure don't. Not anymore. I'm ashamed to go around my family. I'm too embarrassed to confide in my friends. Outside of work I don't have a life.

I have always known there is a difference between loneliness and aloneness. I am alone, but my father is lonely. And if I had to choose one, I would rather be alone.

I learned the strange art of loneliness, the weathered yearning that swells and passes, and swells and passes, when you walk a trail alone.

I think that if we look for love courageously, it reveals itself, and we wind up attracting even more love. If one person really wants us, everyone does. But if we__e alone, we become even more alone. Life is strange.

I have been a stranger here in my own land: All my life

You are letting this feeling get cold, I cant blame you, you must know you are free to go... Don't you ever look back... If you wonder why it is because I wont be there.

In a world filled with people, some happy, others like me, I feel so all alone.

To break the silence the old man said the first thing that came to his mind: "Loneliness is a type of violence.

He would say her name over and over until it devolved into meaningless sounds - mah REI kuh, mah REI kuh - it became an entry in a dictionary of loneliness.

Sometimes I wake up and lie still enough to hear a petal drop from the vase of flowers. Sometimes I lie awake and wish there was someone to hear my falling.

I am taking this in, slowly,Taking it into my body.This grief. How slowThe body is to realizeYou are never coming back.

The American appetite for loneliness impressed me, and there was something about this solitude that freed conversation. One night at a bar, I met a man, and within five minutes he explained that he had just been released from prison. Another drinker told me that his wife had passed away, and he had recently suffered a heart attack, and now he hoped that he would die within the year. I learned that there's no reliable small talk in America; at any moment a conversation can become personal.

All we had was her room, her stories, and the quiet that settled in as we tried in vain to spread ourselves out and fill the space she'd left behind.

It'll be no use their putting their heads down and saying "Come up again, dear!"I shall only look up and say "Who am I then? Tell me that first, and then,if I like being that person, I'll come up: if not, I'll stay down heretill I'm somebody else"--but, oh dear!' cried Alice, with a sudden burstof tears, 'I do wish they WOULD put their heads down! I am so VERY tiredof being all alone here!

I need the pain of loneliness to make my imagination work.

Together we were something less, which felt like such a relief, to not be ourselves for a while.

If we are alone, we become more alone. Life is strange

Oh, this coming back to an empty house,' Rupert thought, when he had seen her safely up to her door. People - though perhaps it was only women - seemed to make so much of it. As if life itself were not as empty as the house one was coming back to.